


A kiss for a case

by writingwoman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy, keepsherlockalivecompetiton, sherlocksmolmescompetition, writeforjohnlockcompetition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwoman/pseuds/writingwoman
Summary: Ever wondered what would happen if John and Sherlock had to go undercover as a gay couple?  What if they ended up kissing? Would that ruin everything or give voice to something that's been hidden for too long? Read to find out!





	1. Chapter One

Rosie was resting on Sherlock’s shoulder when he and John got back to their flat. The night at Sherlock's parents went well, but it was late and the little one had fallen asleep on their way back.

After properly changing her and putting her to bed, the detective walked in the living room where he found John standing with his phone in his hand. “Problems?” He asked, hovering him to look.

_ I have a case for you but I don’t know if you’ll like it._

“Who’s Greg?”

“Lestrade!” John grunted, looking up at Sherlock. “It’s been ages. It’s not a hard name to remember!” He complained.

“Mh.” Sherlock muttered. “Tell him we’ll meet him here tomorrow morning.”

John agreed and sent the text.

“Tea?” Holmes offered and Watson nodded.

***

Sherlock had his back against the sink. His hands were holding a fuming cup and his curls were tracing his forehead so perfectly that John couldn’t help but stare. He had often found himself gazing at Sherlock for more than a few seconds but he didn’t find it unusual. Sherlock was a very handsome man and it was fine, John was just acknowledging a friend’s beauty. It was normal. Yes. 

“You’re doing it again.” The detective pointed out, sipping his tea without looking at John. Since day one he had noticed the staring, too. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. There were times, though, where Sherlock had called John and he just wouldn’t respond, as if he wasn’t even there.

“Sorry.” John’s gaze moved back to his cup, sinking his face into it. “I was just lost in thought.” He explained, chuckling nervously. “What do you think Greg meant by saying we might not like the case?”

Sherlock shrugged, washing his empty mug. “I don’t know. I assume it’s something we have never done before, something that could compromise our image maybe. Although I can’t think of anything that I wouldn’t like doing to solve a case.”

John thought for a moment, placed down his cup and crossed his arms. “Wait, do you think he was talking about me in the text? And not the both of us?” John had never complained for a case. He liked new challenges so he couldn’t understand what Greg meant by implying they wouldn’t have liked it. Just like his flatmate, John couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do either.

Sherlock glanced at him. “I don’t know.” He lied. Of course it was meant for John, why else would Greg text him on his phone and not on his own as usual?

“I hope Mrs. Hudson can watch Rosie on a Sunday.” John sighed, bringing Sherlock back to the room.

“Positive.” 

***

“You know I have zero problems watching this doll, dear.” Mrs. Hudson declared, softly calling Rosie inside her apartment with her hand.

“Thank you. I don’t know how long it’ll take. Greg should be here any moment now.” John glanced at his watch.

Mrs. Hudson was an angel in John’s eyes. She was always so available and caring towards Rosie. A real life saver. And Rosie loved her, she had started calling her granny. Mrs. Hudson didn’t mind.

He kissed his daughter goodbye and headed back upstairs where Sherlock was silently sitting in his chair, violin on his lap. He had lost the usual blue rope he was wearing earlier and was back to his normal clothes. Black trousers, a white shirt and his black jacket on top. John sat silently in front of him.

Sherlock hated the wait. His fingers started pinching the cords of his instrument, mentally writing down a few notes.

As soon as the doorbell rang, both of them jumped up and Sherlock ran to answer, placing his violin down.

“Boys.” The inspector greeted, his eyes moving between the two.

“Well?!” Sherlock’s hands opened in front of him. “Drug deal? War threat? Death threat?” He gasped. “Serial killer?” Sherlock closed his eyes and crossed his fingers. “Please tell me it’s a serial killer.”

“We don’t know yet.” Greg revealed and Sherlock’s lips turned downward. “A young woman was found dead along with her parents in their family home. Apparently her boyfriend, Michael Mavis had gone out to take a call and when he came back he found them laying dead. He said he didn’t hear any shots or screams.” He explained with his hands resting on his waist.

“How about the neighbours?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s a new neighbourhood. There is an old couple on the other side of the road but their alibi checks in. The only person that lives there is the victim's boyfriend, but we’re quite positive it wasn’t him. He looked devastated.” Greg explained, looking at John here and then.

“How did they die?” The doctor asked, one arm supporting the other on his stomach as his fingers rested on his chin.

“They chocked.” Greg nodded, scratching his head.

“How?” Sherlock asked again, furrowing his brows.

“We don’t know yet, we’re running some tests. Some say it was poison but I personally don’t think that’s the case. But I’m no doctor so what do I know?” He shrugged. “The bodies are in the morgue, they’re probably running the autopsies right now. But I did take some pictures for you, doctor Watson. You might be able to figure something out.” Greg scrolled through his phone and showed John the shots.

Sherlock hovered the doctor, studying the pictures as well. “Interesting.” He said, zooming in on the young lady’s dress for a few seconds.

“Got anything?” John asked, looking up at the detective.

“Not much.” Sherlock smirked, glancing at Greg. “I think we can go to the crime scene, now.” He grabbed his coat but was stopped by the inspector’s hand.

“Now there’s the other part.” Greg hinted a smile to both of the boys, took a deep breath and opened his mouth again. “We need you to go undercover and investigate from there.”

John chuckled in relief. “Oh. Sure, no problem. We have gone undercover before. From your text I thought it was something uncomfortable.” He smiled at Greg who simply smiled back but didn’t say anything. “There's more, isn't there?” The doctor’s smile faded.

Sherlock studied Greg’s expression. He was right. It was something they hadn’t done before. Something different. New neighbourhood means new houses. Not many people moved in. What did it mean? Empty houses. Empty houses but one, if Sherlock excluded the old couple. _What did it mean?_ Victim’s boyfriend’s house. Okay but _what does it mean_? The word house kept echoing in his mind. _I’m missing something_. Something we haven’t done, going undercover, empty houses. Houses. _Yes_.

Sherlock kept his deduction to himself and let Lestrade speak. “We got ahold of the people that were going to live in a house in the neighbourhood and delayed their move.” He tried to explain.

John still didn’t know where Greg was going.

Sherlock’s deduction was right. Obviously. “Let me guess.” He began, closing his eyes for a split second. “The people supposed to be moving in are a couple?” Greg nodded, knowing the detective had already got it. John, instead, looked at him with his eyebrows still furrowed so Sherlock proceeded. “A homosexual couple?” He specified.

John let out a laugh, finally realizing. “No.” He shook his head. “No way.” Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on John’s face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not doing it.”

“We wouldn’t have to kiss or anything. I can do most of the work, you can sit silently if you want.” Sherlock begged. “This is a good case, John!” He tried to convince him, his arms going to his friend’s, squeezing them.

“No!” He protested, looking in those blue eyes that were screaming ‘please’. He clenched his jaw and thought about it. “_Fine._ But no weird 'Sherlock' things.” John finally advised, pointing a finger to the detective. He felt like he needed to make that clear because Sherlock could go that far if he didn’t set some rules.

“I would never.” The detective promised. “Now, we need a change of wardrobe. We don’t look.. gay.” Sherlock’s hand gesticulated at the word and suggested a run to the shops to purchase a few things to look credible. After a lot of pleading, John agreed to change his looks. 

***

Sherlock had left John outside the shopping centre because he’d just slow him down, according to him. It took Sherlock about twenty minutes to come up with a couple of outfits for both of them to wear. John suggested they changed when already at the house but Sherlock didn’t want to take the risk of being seen in their everyday clothing. It would possibly ruin the whole undercover project. So they changed in one of the available restrooms. Sherlock had taken the left stall and John the right.

He looked at the clothes that the taller man had provided and winced. That shirt would have looked tight on him. _Too tight._

After a couple of minutes both men came out and looked at each other. “Oh.” John let out. Sherlock was wearing a lilac t-shirt and a pair of low-waist jeans that showed the hem of some bright green underwear, similar to Moriarty’s. He had also changed his shoes to sneakers. John grinned.

“What?” The detective asked, mentally complimenting himself for the clothes he’d chosen for John. He was used to see him wear very large and comfortable clothing items that wouldn’t do any justice to the doctor’s figure so seeing him with that, indeed very tight, white shirt and those skinny black jeans was a sight.

“The shoes are... nice.” John pointed out.

Sherlock gazed down and crinkled his nose. “Mh. Not what I’d normally choose but if I have to do something I do it right.” He paused. “Which is why..” he continued, pulling a bottle of hair gel out of his bag.

John snickered. “You want to put _that_ in your hair?” He crossed his arms over his chest with an amused smile. Sherlock furrowed his brows and shook his head. “I’m not going to ruin my curls. The gel is for your hair.” He opened the bottle and put some of the weird jelly-like product on his hands. He pressed those together and while John protested, he rubbed it all on his head giving him a nicer look. “Done.” John’s mouth pursed.

***

“Well, now that’s a nice view.” Greg clapped his hands, letting out a laugh. Sherlock had never looked so different and John.. did John work out? “Where the fuck did you get those muscles from?!” He squealed, pressing his fingers on the doctor’s biceps. John told Greg he was used to do some work when anxious. Sherlock rolled his eyes and forced John into the car muttering a _'we're going to be late!' _while doing so.

“Remember. I do most of the talking, you just do whatever you usually do. Pretend to cook, get some tea if or when someone arrives, I don’t know.” Sherlock instructed.

“Put that cute little apron you have.” Greg suggested, a chuckle escaping from his lips.

“Sod off.” John glared at him then at Sherlock. “That's what you think I do all day? Play house with Mrs. Hudson? Why can’t I talk?” He protested. Sherlock didn’t reply so John continued. “Fine. Do all the work, you do it anyways. Doesn’t matter what I tell you or what I think. You just do what you want.” He sighed at Sherlock who just clenched his jaw, something he did many times when irritated, showing off his bone structure. “And stop doing that thing with your jaw, it accentuates your cheekbones.” John grumbled, annoyed.

Sherlock looked down at John and threw his hands in the air. “What’s the matter with my cheekbones? Why do you always have to involve them?” He half-shouted, touching them.

John narrowed his eyes and Sherlock rubbed his face with his hands, his glance softening. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” John nodded, his voice quiet. “Just don’t cut me out. I hate when you do it. I might not be a good actor but I’m good at following you.” He explained.

Sherlock agreed and then both went back silent.

“You already sound like a married couple. This task shouldn’t be hard for you.” Greg smiled, looking at them from the rear-view window. Greg had always thought the two of them had something special and deep down he’d hoped a case like this would pop up.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” John shook his head, a small grin forming.

“A little bit.” He winked.

***

The house John and Sherlock were in was already furnished. The couple had got their goods brought in so the boys just had to pretend it was all theirs. Lestrade had left them alone, placed a few cameras and microphones around the house and wished them good luck.

Sherlock was excited, he couldn’t stop pacing around.

“Having fun?” John asked at some point.

“Not yet.” The detective replied. “But I will, soon.” He assured, looking out the window. “So, from what I see the boyfriend’s home. We should pay him a visit.” He suggested.

***

“How are we going to do this?” John asked as they walked. He had to admit he was a little bit nervous. Playing Sherlock’s boyfriend wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d do. John wondered how Mrs. Hudson would react if she knew what they were about to do. _She’d die_.

“Follow my lead.” Sherlock knocked on the door and a few seconds later a man answered. He looked at both with a questioning look.

“Hi.” Sherlock smiled widely. “I'm Stephen and this is my boyfriend Everett. We just moved here,” he wrapped an arm around John’s waist, pulling him closer, then gazed back at the man. “We thought we’d introduce ourselves and invite you over for dinner tonight, since we’re the only ones in the neighborhood. To know each other.” He explained, his tone sweet and light.

John was amazed. He had already seen Sherlock pretend before with Janine and Irene but still, if John didn’t know it was an act he would have never figured it out. What kind of a name was Everett, though?

Sherlock noticed the man. Red eyes, runny nose, messy hair. _He’d been crying_. Ketchup stain on his blue shirt, crumbs on fingers. _Stress eating? Mh. Guilt eating? Possibly. _Strand of hay on his shoulder. _Guinea pig?_ Golden engraved bracelet. _Gift_. Left wrist, _girlfriend_. Shaky hands, _been drinking._

“Uh, thanks. I’m not really in the mood.” The man almost shut the door again but John blocked him. “Oh you poor thing.” John shook his head, his eyes saddening. “Whatever’s troubling you we can cheer you up!” He sent Michael a reassuring smile and continued. “I make a very good apple pie.” He revealed. “Don’t I, _love_?” John glanced at his fake boyfriend.

It felt weird calling him love, John almost winced. Not because he didn’t like calling his detective _that_, he just wasn’t used to it. 

Sherlock’s stomach contracted at the word but he tried to hide it with a nod. “He’s the best.” He agreed, gesticulating at the man in a whispery voice. “C’mon, just for a couple of hours then we’ll let you go.” Sherlock promised.

The man agreed to the dinner and disappeared inside his house.

As soon as they started walking Sherlock’s hand moved from John’s waist to his fingers, interlocking them with his.

“What are you doing?” John asked, looking at their hands as his heart did a flip.

“He’s looking at us from the window, just smile.” Sherlock whispered and the doctor did so and then, unsure, brought Sherlock’s hand up to his lips and placed there a small kiss.

John’s eyes locked with Sherlock’s while doing so and for a moment everything else disappeared.

The taller one cleared his voice and a few moments later John’s gaze moved to the ground. “Right.” John muttered and kept walking towards ‘their’ house.

Once inside, Sherlock left John’s hand and walked straight to one of the bedrooms. “We have two hours to get ready but I have something to do first.” He said before slamming the door shut. He had been doing that quite a lot recently. John wasn’t sure why.

He was ninety percent positive Sherlock was spending time inside his mind palace and he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it, even if he wanted to.

***

“You still haven’t told me what the guessing game you play with Rosie is.” John pointed out at Sherlock who had come out of his bedroom and had positioned himself on the couch.

Sherlock looked up from his phone. “Do you really want to know?” He asked, turning to face John who nodded with a smile. “We like trying to guess people’s lives based on what they’re wearing or how they walk. If they’re on the phone who they’re talking to. What their job is. Stuff like that.” Sherlock explained. “Rosie is very good. She learns quickly. I usually start deducing and she follows, I ask her questions and teach her my methods.” He shrugged.

John didn’t know how to feel about that. Rosie was still young to understand that it wasn’t really a game they were playing and that what Sherlock was teaching her would be with her forever. She’d end up like him. The doctor didn’t know if that’s what he wanted for his daughter. Sherlock was complicated and the whole thing sounded wrong to him.

Sherlock must have sensed John’s worry so he continued. “It really is just a game. She likes it. I’m not forcing her to do anything.” He paused. “Rosie’s smarter than you think, John. She has a lot of Mary.” He expressed with a calm voice. “But also a lot of you.” 

John nodded, warmed by the statement. He opened his mouth but before he could properly respond the doorbell rang. He rubbed his hands and walked to open the door with a smile.

The man had taken a shower, put on clean clothes and looked a little bit more alive than before. “Hi, come in!” John welcomed, opening the door to let him in. “Me and-” He turned and Sherlock was nowhere in sight. “We’re glad to have you here tonight. We’re really warm people and when we move we like to make friends. After all we’re hopefully gonna live here for a long time.” John stated happily, taking the man’s coat.

“Thanks. Not everyone is this welcoming.” He sighed, looking around. “This is beautiful. Where did you get the kitchen?”

John blinked. “Uh my— my boyfriend bought everything. He’s the designer, I usually notice from the credit card bills.” He joked, wondering were Sherlock was. “I’ll go put this down, be right back.” John informed, going to look for him. “Make yourself at home!” He shouted from one of the corridors.

The bathroom’s door opened in front of the doctor and a new scent made its way through John’s nostrils. “Is this cologne?” He asked Sherlock, smiling cockily.

The detective raised an eyebrow and whispered. “Yes. It’s more believable.” He rolled his eyes and both walked together back to the man. 

“I’m Michael by the way. Didn’t have a chance to introduce myself earlier, sorry.” 

John and Sherlock shared a look, then shook their heads. “It’s all fine.” 

***

“How long have you known each other for?” Michael asked, biting into his food.

Sherlock couldn’t understand why the man’s behaviour was completely different than a few hours earlier. Every sign of loss had been washed away from his face. He couldn’t detect anything and it was getting frustrating. “Eight years.” Sherlock replied. “Do you have a special someone?” He asked, narrowing his eyes a little but keeping his tone light.

John squeezed his leg from under the table to let him know to keep it on the low-low.

“Mh, no.” Michael smiled, mouth full. “I’m more of a lone wolf. I’m not a fan of the whole commitment thing. Haven’t met the loyalest people. But I enjoy looking at other couples. I love the way you gaze at each other. You can tell you’re in love.” He complimented them.

John cleared his throat and Sherlock moved his hand up to stroke John's cheek which made the doctor’s heart do a flip. _Not again_. He thought, blushing a little. Nrph. “How could you not be in love with this man? He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Sherlock confessed directly into John’s eyes. Again, if John didn’t know he was acting, he would have thought he was telling the truth.

Michael’s smile faded as soon as his phone buzzed. Eyebrows furrowed. _Confused_. Gulped multiple times. _Dry mouth_. Hand Loosening his tie knot. _Nervous. Yes. Now we’re talking._

“I have to take this, excuse me for a second..” he stood up and quickly walked towards the bathroom.

Sherlock followed Michael’s movements and positioned himself next to the room’s door, closing his eyes.

John was behind him. “Hearing anything?” he asked.

“No.” Sherlock replied.

“What?.....silence with.....how could you.....not fair.......didn’t know......yes...ok.....”

The detective sighed as quietly as he could. “Shit.” He whispered, looking at John then at the living room then back at John as if he was trying to make a decision.

John questioned him with his eyes and Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry.” He continued as his hands went on the smaller one’s shirt lapels.

“Why, wha-” The bathroom door opened and John felt himself being pushed back against a column of a nearby wall a second earlier. He let out a small groan but before he could complain, his mouth was being shut down by Sherlock’s lips. John wanted to find the strength to pull away but he couldn’t. He had Sherlock’s chest pressed against his, his curls were grazing on his forehead and his hands were pulling him in by his shirt. He was stuck.

At first Sherlock’s lips were kissing the doctor’s in a slow and soft way, then with a swift gradation of intensity, it became wetter, louder as Sherlock’s mouth was eagerly parting John’s lips. Soon John realized that he was kissing the detective back. 

His hands went to Sherlock’s curls and tugged the ends towards him as both their tongues were dancing together. The detective’s hands moved from his shirt to his sides, squeezing them before running them back up to cup John’s cheeks. God, Sherlock was good at this. 

“Oop, sorry!” Michael exclaimed at the sight.

Sherlock left John’s lips with a smooch sound then turned around to face Michael with an embarrassed smile. “Oh, God. I should be the one apologizing.” He walked towards the man. “I just can’t keep my hands off of him.” He bit his lip, still sounding embarrassed.

“Of course not! I have to go anyway. But thank you for this lovely evening boys.” Michael explained, gazing at both. “Where’s my coat?” He asked a few moments later.

“Second room to the right.” Sherlock pointed, then eyed John again. The doctor hadn’t said a word. His chest was moving up and down quite fast and his cheeks were of a bright red. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to restart you?” He asked and once John’s gaze met his he continued. “We have a killer to catch, c’mon!” His hands moved up and down and John just nodded, suddenly not knowing where he was or what he was doing.

***

Back at 221B, John had regained the ability to speak. “What was that?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. “What was what?”

“The kiss. We agreed there wouldn’t be any kissing.” John reminded his flatmate, whispering the last word. Sherlock shrugged and took off his coat. “Sherlock.” He called and the detective looked at him. “Why did you kiss me?”

“It was just a kiss, get over yourself. It wasn’t a marriage proposal for God’s sake.” Sherlock said in a defensive way, then walked to his room and shut the door for the second time that day.

“Jesus.” John sighed, walking to hit the sack as well.

***

Sherlock took a shower, changed his clothes and laid down on his bed. He took a deep breath, rubbed his hands together and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again he was standing in front of a black, locked door and his hands were fidgeting with a golden key. He stood there for a few moments, unsure. Then, having gathered the strength, he slid the key inside the lock with shaky fingers and let it fall to the ground with a loud thump. _Here goes nothing_.

His hand wrapped around the door handle and, holding his breath, he walked in, immediately closing it behind him. As he did so a flow of emotions entered his body, bending his knees to the ground. Images started filling the room and Sherlock looked around, his breath already heavy. _Be strong_. He tried not to linger too long on the memories in the room but he found the task extremely difficult. John’s laughter was echoing in the white, full of light space as well as in Sherlock’s ears and together were memories of the times where the doctor had touched the detective a little longer than usual, maybe squeezing his shoulder or his neck, then their tighter hugs, one by one... the first time they shook hands, the first time they held hands, and again there was John’s heart-warming smile and the times where he’d ruffled Sherlock’s hair in a playful way. Those images were all standing in front of the detective. And with every moving memory was a feeling attached to it. Only one was the room filled with. _Love_. Sherlock’s hands covered his face in an exhausted way, his eyes already watery. He had stored certain memories of John since the beginning of their friendship. The ones he couldn’t keep out in the open and that made Sherlock’s heart go wild.

He’d called the room his ‘human room’ because in there was Sherlock’s human side. He never opened the door, except when he had to store in new memories. Many times he had wanted to delete everything because it just hurt too much, especially while he was inside. Sherlock’s love for John was something else, something he had never felt for anyone before and that room, with time, had become both his favourite and the one he despised the most. _Sherlock, stand_. Mycroft called. “I can’t.” The detective mumbled as his fingers were tugging his hair ends. _Sherlock, stand..._ **‘_you were the most human human being...’_** “I can’t.” **_‘And the wisest man’_**... _Stand, Sherlock_. Sherlock groaned loudly and pressed one foot to the ground. **_‘Yes, of course I forgive you.’_** The curly-haired man shook his head, trying to make everything go away. “Stop..” He whined. _Sherlock, stand._ ‘_**You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool..’**_ _Sherlock_.

He managed to stand but his legs were still unable to properly support him. **_‘You’re my best friend.’_** His cheeks were soaking wet at that point. **_‘So you have a boyfriend then?’_** He closed his eyes. _Keep going, brother dear._ ‘**_I was so alone.. and I owe you so much.’_** He took a deep breath and moved his shaky hands in front of him. ‘**_You could.’_** Sherlock opened his eyes again, his sight blurry. “John..” He called. ‘**_Because you’re Sherlock Holmes, you’re as clever as it gets... one more miracle, Sherlock.. for me.’_** “Hmm.” The detective groaned, the voices getting louder. _Take it out, Sherlock_. _**‘I don’t mind..’ **_He went back to the previous evening, he went back to the kiss. **‘I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t even know your name!’ **He shook his head.** ‘...with your cheekbones and pulling your coat collar up..’ ‘Friends protect people!’ ‘Don’t be... dead.’** Sherlock shook his head again. _**‘The two people I love and care about most in the world..’ ‘but for the record there was another one that turned my life around..’ ‘Stop it.. stop this.’ ‘Fantastic!’**_ The detective screamed, finally being able to pull the memory of the kiss into the room. _**‘Why? Wha-’**_ With his hand, he muted John’s voice. The images getting smaller behind the new memory. Sherlock let out a sigh. The new one had every lip lock, every sound, every breath and every small move of air around them that night. He sniffed and piled the kiss with everything else, quietly. He wanted that memory gone from his conscious mind as soon as possible, but he also wanted to store it since it was probably the only time he’d kiss John Watson. He gazed at the room for a few seconds and then turned around, not really ready to leave it-_John_ behind.


	2. Chapter 2

_ 3 a.m. _ John glanced at the clock once again, his arms crossed behind his head as he laid still. _ ‘It was just a kiss, for God’s sake!’ _ That sentence was echoing in his head. The doctor brought a hand to his face and covered his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. He should have been glad Sherlock was just acting and didn’t mean anything by it but for some reason the tightness in his chest suggested otherwise.

Every time John closed his eyes, Sherlock’s hands were back on his shirt, pulling him with strength against that column and kissing the air out of him. _ God. _He sighed, rubbing his face, hoping that would erase the detective’s face from his mind.

John tossed and turned all night. Everything he was feeling was very new to him, he didn’t know what to expect. How could he face Sherlock in the morning? Would they pretend nothing happened? _ It was for a case, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. _Sherlock’s face popped up and John bit his lip. Right, nothing different from the other ones. He did know what Sherlock’s lips tasted like but that was it. A story they’d laugh at in the future.

***

When he opened his eyes again, Sherlock was back in the room. The memory of the kiss was there but the feelings were faded. They still existed, they were still somewhat alive, but very faint. It was easier for Sherlock to control them that way, especially regarding John.

The sun had already risen even though it was still early. _ Monday morning. _He thought, sliding out of the duvet to go empty his bladder and most importantly, wash his ‘I didn’t have a very good night sleep’ face.

As he was patting his face dry, a distant sound of the kettle made him realize that John was awake, too.

***

“Good morning.” Sherlock greeted as he entered the kitchen.

John turned around, widening his eyes at Sherlock wearing, again, just his sheets. A little smile formed but the doctor avoided the eye-contact. “Hi. Slept well?” He asked, focusing on the tea.

Sherlock could sense there was something troubling John and he hoped it wasn’t the kiss. He didn’t want to lose his best friend over something he did for the sake of the case. _Because it was just for the case, wasn’t it brother?_ _Shut up_. When John turned around he noticed that the bags under his eyes were a little more swollen than usual and that his eyes were having trouble staying open. “Yes.” Sherlock lied, his voice soft. “You?” He questioned, already knowing the answer. Sherlock’s heart ached at the thought that John’s sleepless night was probably his fault.

_ Sherlock slept well, so it’s just you. God, John. Get it together. _ “I’ve had better nights.” The doctor confessed, pouring the boiling tea into their mugs. John didn’t even try to lie because he knew that Sherlock was, doubtless, already aware of his state.

“I’m sorry.” Said the detective. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He began starting to feel the tension rise as John’s eyes finally met his. “I-I thought it was the only logical thing to do without seeming suspicious.” Sherlock explained. “But I should have respected your demand not to kiss. It was selfish of me and I apologize.”

John sighed, his jaw clenching. He wasn’t angry.. well, he didn’t really know _ what _ he was feeling. “You-” His voice broke. What was happening to him? He was in complete tilt.

_ How could a kiss, my kiss, have caused so much trouble? _Sherlock had never felt that much guilt, he hated it. “John?” He called softly, wanting to fix it.

John shook his head and tried to hide his burdens behind a smile. “No, it’s fine. I was in shock yesterday because it was something I had never thought of doing.” _ Ouch. _Sherlock’s heart tightened but he kept sipping from his now half-cold jug. “But it’s okay. It was for the sake of the case. Like you said, it didn’t mean anything so..” John cleared his throat. “We’re okay. Everything back to normal, yes?”

Sherlock nodded, good. He didn’t ruin anything. Everything back to normal. _ Perfect. _

***

“And it turned out it was the boyfriend. His girlfriend’s parents didn’t approve of him and she was about to leave him, for the sake of the family. Initially he didn’t want to kill her so I do believe that part was a mistake. Perhaps she tasted her mother’s drink, swallowing the drug that eventually killed all of them-”

“But you said he was happy at dinner. What happened?” Rosie asked, her legs swaying from the couch. Sherlock loved her interest in his cases, maybe almost as much as he loved her. The little kid had introduced Sherlock to a new kind of love, different from the one he had for her father.

“His best friend, as well as his drug dealer and accomplice, found out she was cheating on him with some guy named Paul, and the call was to tell him he’d killed him. Michael was quite pissed about that, that’s why he had to leave dinner so abruptly.” Sherlock explained, wiggling his eyebrows at the little girl who giggled in return. “Anyways me, your dad and the inspector found him with a gun pointed at his friend. He confessed everything. You should have seen his face.”

“Priceless.” John entered the room after the work hours and smiled at his daughter who ran towards him to hug him. “Hi, princess.” He kissed her forehead and then put her back down, shooting a glance at Sherlock. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The detective said softly. They gazed at each other for a few moments, then Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Lestrade.” He said, as if it was supposed to make John recall something.

“What about-OH.” The realization hit him. He grabbed his coat and picked Rosie up. “Daddy and Sherlock have got to do something, you can play at Mrs. Hudson for a bit. I’m sure she won’t mind.” John didn’t like leaving his daughter all the time to their landlady. He knew Rosie wasn’t a burden for her but still, he didn’t want to impose.

“Granny isn’t home, dad.” Rosie pointed out, clinging to the man she adored. “Take me with you. I’ve never been to Scotland Yard.” She said, excitedly.

John glanced at Sherlock who had a big smile on his face, then at his daughter. “How do you know we’re going to Scotland Yard?” He furrowed his brows.

“Sherlock said Greg’s name and you suddenly grabbed your coat.. it’s five in the afternoon so the only place you could find him right now is Scotland Yard.” She explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Jesus, now there's two.” John whispered, walking out of the door followed by a chuckling detective. 

***

“Do you think he-” John began, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes.” Sherlock gulped, glancing at the man next to him.

Rosie’s mouth widened as she entered the place. “Whoa.” She gasped, both hands holding the men's next to her.

John smiled briefly at Rosie and then started looking for Greg with his eyes. It didn’t take long because two strong hands wrapped around the guys, pulling them together. “Hello there, smoochies.”

The doctor blushed, only thinking of Rosie. “Greg it’s not-” he tried to say turning around.

“Yes, yes. You don’t fool me, I saw the footage. Loved the show, ate some popcorn while watching.” Greg mocked, before glancing down at Rosie. “Oh, hi sweetie.” He kneeled down, giving time to Sherlock and John for exchanging some eye talk.

_ What do we do? There’s Rosie. _John tried, nodding down.

_ I know. _ Sherlock rolled his eyes. _ Stay with her, I’ll talk to him. _

“Graham-”

“Greg.” John corrected.

“Greg. Can I talk to you in private?” Sherlock grabbed the inspector by his arm and dragged him a few meters away from his family. “The kiss wasn’t what you think, please don’t make a big deal out of it.” He finally said, lowering his voice.

Sherlock’s eyes were pleading and Greg sighed, disappointed. “You can pretend it was just for the case with John, Sherlock.. but you can’t kid me.” He glanced at Sherlock whose gaze had suddenly saddened, then at John. “I see how you look at him, and how he looks at you too.”

The detective shook his head, straightening up. “There’s nothing going on between us, we made that perfectly clear. He’s not interested and I’m—not yearning for that kind of human connection.” He assured, monotone. What was Greg insinuating? _ He’s right, brother dear. _ Mycroft’s voice teased him. _ Yeah, he chose the best time to be clever. _

“I don’t believe you.” Greg scoffed, making a step closer. “That was not a kiss between two who are just friends. You’re a good actor, but I know a real kiss when I see one. There was tongue for God’s sake!” He protested, looking at the man in front of him dead in the eyes.

“Delete that part of the footage and don’t show it to anyone. _ Anyone _.” Sherlock ordered, marking the last word and then walked back to where John and Rosie were.

John watched as the two of them talked even though he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Sherlock’s body language had varied throughout the conversation but he wasn’t as good as the detective at deducing the meaning behind certain movements. That’s why he decided to let it go. “Everything good?” John asked, stepping outside.

“Yes.” Sherlock confirmed, getting inside the cab.

***

John was carefully tucking Rosie in. His daughter was gazing up at him with wonder in her eyes. “Daddy?” She asked, positioning her hand on his dad’s face. She could see that something was troubling her father, he wasn’t as chatty as usual and that worried her. Rosie didn’t want her dad to be sad.

John gazed up at his daughter, who had her eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, love?” _ Love. _ John thought. _ The last time I used this word I was talking to Sherlock. _He shook his head, swishing away his inner voice.

Rosie hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should ask the question. “Did you give Sherlock a kiss?” But her three year old curiosity got the best of her. She could see the shock in her daddy’s face making her immediately regret going through with it, suddenly wishing she could travel back in time and take it back.

John’s cheeks changed colour, his mouth going dry. “What?” He choked out. Her daughter just stared at him with a little smile. He just didn’t know how to reply. Should he be honest? Would she notice if he lied?

Rosie thought that the damage was already done by then so she continued. “Do you love him?” She gasped. “Do you think he loves you, too?” Her eyes were sparkling.

John thought he’d faint. “What I think..” he began, leaning in. “Is that you need to sleep because you have school tomorrow.” He chuckled at his daughter’s grimace and kissed her cheek.

“School’s boring.” She protested, her eye-lids closing.

John smiled. “I know.” He whispered, walking out of the room.

Sherlock was comfortably sitting on the couch, head resting on one of the arms. He had his eyes closed and his hands were pressed together. “You can come and sit, I don’t mind.” He told the doctor, who was staring at him from the kitchen door.

John nodded and went to sit down. “Thanks.” He grinned, turning on the telly.

Sherlock’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he grabbed it and sighed at it.

_ Do you want to talk about it? –Molly. _

_ Lestrade told you, didn’t he? SH. _

_ He might have, yes. Look I know you.. even if you don’t want to admit it. So I’m here if you want to talk. –Molly. _

Sherlock sat up properly. “What’s wrong?” John asked, glancing at the man beside him.

“Mh? Nothing.” He assured, “I have to make a phone call. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He continued, leaving John alone.

“To whom?” 

Sherlock ignored him and disappeared towards his room.

***

_ “Hello?” _ Molly’s voice echoed through the phone and Sherlock bit his lip, not really knowing why he’d called her. Not hearing any response from the man, she spoke again. “ _ Sherlock? Are you okay?” _She asked.

“Hi, Molly.. yes. Everything’s fine.” He lied, sitting on his bed. Sherlock wasn’t used to this, talking with people. But Molly had been there for him and he really cared for her, in his own way. He knew he could trust her, she’d never judge him.

_ “Talk to me. I won’t interrupt you. Just pour it all out, you’ll feel better.” _Her voice was sweet, kind of in a motherly way. Molly, somehow, was able to get Sherlock and see things that even John couldn’t.

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. He had let her in once before, when she'd helped him fake his death and they hadn’t talked about _ that _ conversation ever again. But he also hadn’t seen her for two years at that time while now he’d see her every other day and.. this time, the matter was John.

He convinced himself to give it a try. He took a deep breath and began to talk. He told Molly everything, from the beginning of their friendship to where they were in that moment. He hesitated a little bit when the topic of his mind palace came out, he decided not to tell her the whole truth. Some things Sherlock wanted to keep for himself. He just told her he had a room for John that he never opened, without giving any detailed explanation on how he felt about it or what happened while he was inside.

Molly listened carefully to Sherlock. She was aware of the fact that if she didn’t let him speak he’d stop, perhaps changing his mind about it, so she just listened without making any sound. Letting him spill it all, safely.

When Sherlock stopped talking she was crying. She always feared that Sherlock would end up closing down more and more and she’d feared for his life before. But everything changed when she met John. Molly knew he could have been the one to take Sherlock out of the pit. It was something she always _ hoped _ more than anything, romantically or not.

Of course there were a lot of speculations about John and Sherlock loving each other more than friends, and she had her doubts, too. Equally for both. Sherlock was a very difficult man, scared of human emotion in all its forms and John was equally as difficult, only attracting psychopaths into his life to stay afloat and give his life meaning. Yet she couldn’t think of anyone else more perfect for both of them than one another.

Yes, she’d really hoped she’d be that person for Sherlock but nobody could compete with John and she was okay with it. It hurt a lot, it was probably the worst heartbreak she’d ever experienced but they had her blessing. Truly.

“_ Sherlock..” _ She whispered, trying to hide her sobs. Sherlock breathed, his hands a little bit shaky. _ “You can’t keep this inside you, it will eat you.” _She warned, knowing what hiding feelings was like.

Sherlock let out a nervous chuckle. “I always have. What difference would it make? It’d ruin everything between us and it’s the last thing I want.” He explained, now pacing around the room.

Molly shook her head. _ “It’ll get worse. Trust me, it will.” _ She muttered. “ _ I know it’s not easy.. maybe it’s even harder on you than other people.. but it is mutual.. John just doesn’t know it, yet.” _She comforted him, her voice soft.

“I can’t risk it, Molly. There’s too much on the line.” Sherlock argued, his voice a whisper. “I can’t risk losing what we have. I’m not even sure that love is what I’m feeling, it’s all new and I’m-” He stopped, clenching his jaw.

_ “You’re what?” _ She asked. Silence from the other line. She waited for a few moments then spoke again _ . “Sherlock, I don’t wanna push you. You have already said a lot and I’m very proud of you.” _ Molly comforted, making Sherlock smile _ . “I’m happy you opened up and just know that this is between us..” _ She assured_. “And for whatever, I’m always here.” _

He waited for a few moments, took a deep breath and confessed “I’m scared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing Sherlock and Molly's conversation, I hope you liked reading it. :)


	3. A good different.

“I know you said it was for a case but I can’t get your lips out of my head, Sherlock. It’s killing me.” John revealed, his hands opening and closing by his sides.

Sherlock stared at him blankly. “What are you saying?” He asked, taking a step closer towards the doctor.

John glanced at Sherlock’s blue eyes then at his mouth. “What do you think?” He quizzed, moving his gaze up to his eyes again.

The detective gulped, getting lost in his doctor’s eyes. “I want you to tell me.”

His voice of a baritone lower than usual sent shivers down John’s spine, wanting nothing else other than to kiss his best friend. “I want to kiss you, again.” He spoke his thoughts out and a smirk approached Sherlock’s face, then his hand started moving up and down John’s arm, igniting his bones.

“Then, do it.” He suggested, his voice barely audible.

John didn’t have to hear it twice and crashed his lips on Sherlock’s. God, it was the most satisfying thing he’d ever done. He loved his taste, the way his arms were holding him. His whole body on fire, he just didn’t want it to end. John was overwhelmed by a wave of passion and lust that he didn’t care it was for a man and that that man was the one he’d always seen as a friend.

“_John_.” Sherlock moaned, his fingers pressing on his back, pulling the man in front of him closer. John moaned back at the contact, feeling his pants growing tighter against his skin. Who’d ever thought he could feel this way for someone of the same sex? Certainly not him.

The doctor pushed Sherlock down on the couch and a few moments later he was striding him. His mouth grazed at the crook of his neck, making Sherlock arch his back. “Hmm..” He mumbled, cupping John’s face to capture his mouth again, lips locking loudly.

John wanted to have him in that moment. He didn’t care about anyone entering and seeing them like that, he wanted to have Sherlock there and then. He started unbuttoning the detective's shirt, then revealing his naked torso. “God..” John admired, kissing his skin with his fingers.

_“And then, what?” Ella’s voice snapped John back to reality, making him sigh_.

“Then we...then I woke up.” He lied, nodding. “It wasn’t just last night.. it’s been two weeks and I can’t stop them. Every single time I fall asleep, even when I nap. Sherlock’s there.” He explained, leaning forward in his chair.

“Do you mind?” Ella asked, focusing on John’s movements.

John furrowed his brows. “Of course I mind. I’m not gay.” He declared, again. Ella sighed. “This is Sherlock’s fault. If he hadn’t kissed me, I wouldn’t be dreaming about him. It’s uncomfortable.” He winced.

Ella wrote down on her notepad a few things then looked at John. John was a troubled man, always had been. Very hot-headed, he wouldn’t listen to her that easily. “How do you know that?” She asked. John shrugged, straightening up. _ He’s getting defensive. _“How can you be one hundred percent sure that the kiss didn’t just help something that was already meant to come out?” Ella suggested.

John couldn’t believe his ears. “No.” He chuckled, nervously. “Why would it—no! I don’t fancy Sherlock _ that _way.” He shook his head, standing up.

“I don’t believe that what we dream is a casualty.” She informed, fixing her glasses. “I think that your subconscious is showing you the life that you so strongly repress since you met the man that changed it.” Ella told him.

John kept shaking his head, fidgeting with his fingers. “That’s not what this is. If I did that, it would mean that I’m scared of my feelings and I assure you I’m not.” He argued, his glance cold at his therapist. 

“You’re not scared of your feelings, John. You’re scared of what they would do to you if you let them in.” Ella revealed with a small smile. She knew that this topic in particular was pretty tough on John, but she also knew that someday it would have come out and she was ready to help him deal with it.

John bit the inside of his cheek, saying nothing. He didn’t know what to think, not that he was surprised. He felt like he’d been living in a bubble for the past weeks. He knew she wasn’t right. _ She can’t be right. _Because if she was right, it would change everything and John wouldn’t know how to handle it. “Look, I can’t help you dream wise but I could help you sort out your feelings.” Ella promised. “But you have to be open to anything. Whatever comes out, you have to embrace it, John. For your own good.”

The doctor sucked his bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can do that.” He revealed, supporting his chin with his left hand. He was serious, admitting that there was a slight possibility that he felt something more than friendship for his flatmate was too surreal for John.

“You can.” She assured, nodding. “But it’s up to you.” She continued. “Tell me, what’s the worst that could happen, according to you, if you let yourself open to the possibility?”

John looked down, his voice coming out as a whisper. “I could lose him.”

“And then what?”

“Then I’d be alone, again.” He confessed, his eyes saddening.

Ella felt for him. Her heart warmed at how much he cared for Sherlock but was too blind to see it. The fact that he thought he’d be alone, even though he would have his daughter and Molly along with the inspector and Mrs. Hudson only proved that her theory was right. “When Sherlock came back, did you end up telling him what you so desperately wanted to?” John shook his head, a sad smile forming.

***

Rosie was comfortably sitting in her high chair, a mouthful of pasta on her little fork. Her dad and Sherlock had already moved on to the steaks. She didn’t like that type of meat, but she enjoyed the smell.

John was sitting in front of the detective, not really paying attention to anything but the food on his plate. “Hm.” He began, tasting his meal. “Could you pass the salt, sweetheart?” He asked, extending his hand towards the man. Sherlock froze, his fork dropping on his plate. “What?” John asked, noticing Sherlock’s shocked gaze on him.

“You called Sherlock, sweetheart!” Rosie pointed out, chuckling.

John furrowed his eyebrows, chucking as well. “No, I didn’t.” He assured. “I said: could you pass the salt, Sherlock?” He repeated, eyeing Sherlock who just sat there silently. “Sher-?” He called, blood draining from his face. Did he really call Sherlock, sweetheart?

“You did, but uh-you—” he cleared his throat. “You were probably thinking of something else, it’s okay.” Sherlock smiled, handing him the salt container.

“Yeah, I must have.” John gulped, embarrassed. _ So stupid. _“Sorry.” He apologized. Sherlock just shook his head as in not to worry.

“I liked it.” Rosie declared, looking at both of them.

“What, princess?” Her father asked and she giggled. “You calling Sherlock sweetheart. I liked it.” She explained and Sherlock covered his face with his hands. _ Can’t I just go back to when finding the chemical compound for Ammonium hexachloroplatinate was a problem? _“I have my answer and I’m happy.” Rosie cheered.

John blushed, wishing he could go back to when his daughter couldn’t talk.. just for a minute. “But I did that as a mistake. It won’t happen again.” He assured.

Rosie’s face saddened. “Was the kiss a mistake, too?” She asked, looking at both of them.

“How does she know about the kiss?” Sherlock interrupted, trying to sound as normal as possible and not embarrassed at all.

“She lives with you, are you really questioning it?” John asked back, referring to his and now her skills. “The kiss was for a case, honey. There’s nothing romantic between me and Sherlock.” He said, a little more to himself than his daughter.

“But I thought kisses were given when someone liked the other person, I thought they were a romantic gesture.” Her bottom lip started trembling and John panicked.

“They are a romantic gesture!” Sherlock guaranteed, smiling at Rosie. “And most of the time you kiss someone because you like them and you want to show them that you do.” He explained and John looked at his daughter who seemed captivated by Sherlock’s voice. _ Honestly, though. Who wouldn’t be? _ He sighed quietly. _ Shut up. _“But the kiss me and your dad shared was not a romantic one, it was a-” the detective paused, glancing at John. “A different kind of kiss.” He tried to explain and John’s heart skipped a bit.

“A bad different?” Rosie asked, looking down.

“A good different.” Sherlock confessed, reassuring Rosie’s fantasies and deep down hoping John wouldn’t notice the accuracy of his statement.

***

Sherlock had put Rosie to bed that night, reassuring her some more about the kiss but not giving her too much hope about him and her dad and was now sitting in his armchair with John in the other.

“Do you really think it was a good different?” John asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer or not.

Sherlock was taken aback by such question and stared at John for a few seconds before replying, taking his time. “Does it matter?” He decided to avoid the direct response, wanting to know more about John’s feelings.

“I don’t know.” The doctor confessed, looking at Sherlock in the eyes. “I’m still debating.” He continued, sending him a small smile.

Sherlock smiled back and eventually stood up, offering John a hand. “Dance with me.” He was embracing Molly’s advice which turned out to be the same as John’s therapist. _ Just live it and see what happens. _That was one of the reasons why John whispered an “Okay.” And grabbed Sherlock’s hand in his.

They walked in the centre of the room, quietly. Sherlock’s hand went on John’s back hesitantly and the doctor’s hand rested on his shoulder, gripping it slightly. John’s other hand joined Sherlock’s and gasped when the man intertwined their fingers.

Sherlock spotted his reaction and smiled to himself. Growing more confident he pulled John closer to him, their chests almost touching. John’s face was an inch away from his, gazing at him with those light-blue eyes. He had never seen a pair of eyes that beautiful.

The doctor couldn’t stand Sherlock’s eyes on him any longer, it made his knees wobble and his stomach tighten. So he rested his chin on his shoulder, Sherlock looking forward.

At first it was just swaying, slowly and carefully. Then Sherlock started leading John around the room, every moment and every angle seemed to be planned in advance and deep down John loved every second of it. He felt like he was floating.

He let go of every single thought and every single worry and just followed Sherlock. If he went left, he went left. If he slowed down, he slowed down as well until at one point he noticed they were dancing in silence. “There’s no music.” John gave voice to his thoughts, whispering.

“Hm,” Sherlock smiled and pulled his head back so that his eyes would meet John’s. “I hadn’t noticed.” He revealed and for John that was it. His heart was done, completely done.

He let go of Sherlock’s hand and placed his on the detective’s cheekbone, tracing it with his thumb. “I always found them mesmerizing.” He could feel the detective tensing up under his touch. He moved his gaze up to his eyes and his heart stopped. Sherlock’s irises were almost invisible, the pupil was covering most of the space.

John’s fingers sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine and legs and for a moment he thought he’d fall to the ground. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain control but failed miserably when he met John’s eyes. Sherlock’s free hand joined his other behind John’s back, stopping their movements. He moved them a little bit lower, resting just an inch above the doctor’s curving. “I can think of a few things I find mesmerizing about you, as well.” He said in a low, raspy voice.

_ God, Jesus and all the saints. _John’s heart was racing, he’d never seen Sherlock like that, he didn’t even think the detective had it in him. He felt like a teenage girl in the arms of her first crush. “Hm?” John muttered, leaning in just so their foreheads could rest together. Both had their lips slightly parted as they started swaying again.

Sherlock had never felt the way he was feeling for John. Having him there, wrapped around him just felt so right. The way he was tiptoeing himself around and how his arms were wrapped on the back of his neck. Sherlock loved it more than anything. His mind was oh so silent, he couldn’t believe it.

John hesitated a little while he moved one hand and rested it on Sherlock’s cheek again. He tried to avoid his eyes for as long as he could, moving his thumb softly. Sherlock was right, it did feel different.. the _ good _ kind of different. John was used to women’s skin, delicate and smooth but didn’t mind the detective’s either. He could feel the soft harsh of his beard, even though it wasn’t yet visible, and of course, he had stronger features.

Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his head on John’s hand, gently. His touch was melting him, he was being so caring and the taller man couldn’t understand why all of a sudden everything else made sense. When he opened his eyes again, he found John with his lip between his teeth as his thumb moved from his cheek to Sherlock’s mouth. He hitched a breath, gazing carefully at John who still wouldn’t dare to look at him. With a bit of hesitation, he lifted his chin up with his index finger, slowly leaning in as he did so. “John.” He whispered.

Once his eyes were back with Sherlock’s, he leaned in as well. “Shh..” He ordered, cupping his cheeks in such a soft motion, worried he’d break him if he did it in any other way. They gazed at each other for a little bit more, savouring the moment and acknowledging the fact that nothing would ever be the same between them if they went through with it.

Sherlock had never been more sure about anything else and John couldn’t think of any reasons why he shouldn’t go through with it. It was as if all of his previous worries were being washed away like fresh snow does with footprints.

John tilted his head to the right just slightly, grazing Sherlock’s lips with his. The detective let out a low sound at the almost contact. “Stop teasing me.” He whined, squeezing John’s bum with his hands. The doctor gasped at the touch and tone, leaving Sherlock the chance to finally take John’s mouth with his.

The kiss was very slow, breaths uniting in one. Hearts beating at the same rate, everything becoming quiet. The London traffic was silent, not a car they could hear, no voices. Just the sound of their mouths departing and meeting again and again and again. It was heaven.

John cursed himself for waiting so much, denying himself what he always wanted. Sherlock thought the same, he knew John would be the one that changed him for the better and he was glad his deductions turned out to be right, but God had he done it sooner.

The detective’s hands ran up and down the doctor’s back, sinking his fingers in, wanting the contact of his skin with John’s. Feeling so helpless and vulnerable, he parted for just a second. He wanted to look at his partner in the eyes, wanted to know if he was the only one in that state, deduced he wasn't. Sherlock crashed their lips together again. This time he added a little more, letting himself go just a bit.

John wanted to taste him. He’d missed his tongue more than anything and now it was the perfect time to catch up. He parted Sherlock’s lips with his and, gently, slid his tongue inside. A moan escaped from Sherlock. _ If I died now, I’d die happy. _He thought, abandoning himself in the kiss. “God, you’re so hot.” John praised as Sherlock pecked his bottom lip.

The detective chuckled, departing from his lips. “What?” He asked, smirking slightly.

John hid his face in Sherlock’s chest, blushing. “You heard me.” He replied, nuzzling his nose in his shirt, loving his smell.

“Say it again.” Sherlock demanded, taking a step back. John groaned, pulling him back in. “No, I want you to repeat what you said.” The detective chuckled, keeping his voice low as not to wake Rosie up.

John rolled his eyes but smiled right after. He took a step closer, put himself on his tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “I said,” he began. “That you,” he continued, pecking at his ear lobe. “are..” he added, leaving another kiss on his jaw “so..” he kissed it again, a little lower on his neck. “Hot.”

Sherlock gulped hard, cupping John’s cheeks with his hands. “Really?” 

“Yes.” He assured, pecking his lips again.

"Mh.." 

"What?" John breathed, running his hands on Sherlock's back.

"I always thought you were incredibly handsome." The detective smiled, mirroring John. 

Both didn’t know what that evening would mean for them, but they couldn't wait to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAND this is it! I have written more and I will come back here once I finish the whole book.. but as of right now, I really hope you enjoyed this! If you did, do tell me! :)
> 
> Thank you so much in advance!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extract from the book 'Cor Cordium' that I'm writing and will soon be publishing here! Hope you enjoyed! :)


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